


I almost lost you

by Amat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Sex, F/M, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, mercykill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amat/pseuds/Amat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela has a near miss on a mission and Gabriel takes it hard.</p>
<p>I've split it into two chapters to make it easier to avoid sexually explicit material. Chapter 1 is closer to PG-13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sub-Saharan sun was punishing, sending huge lazy ripples of heat up from the tarmac. Angela squirmed in her Valkyrie suit. They'd been out here less than five minutes and she was already drenched with sweat. The supply crates they were crouched behind were good cover, but they also blocked any hope of a breeze. 

A shot. Her head whipped around. Tried to place it. Had it come from behind the hanger?

A hoarse voice was screaming.  _ "Retirez les omnics! Vive l'humanité!" _ Someone on their side returned fire and the terrorist quieted. They'd been slowly disbanding the anti-omnic cells that were plaguing the construction of Numbani. This was the last, and they knew it. They weren't backing down without a fight.

Jack tapped her on the shoulder. She turned. He'd already begun to burn, ears and nose glowing red. She bit back her annoyance. She'd given strict instructions to all personnel that they were to wear sunscreen. He signalled that she should prepare to move. There was a second set of crates maybe ten meters away. They'd dart across and regroup. Angela nodded, switched her staff on in readiness. Behind Jack, Gabriel drew his shotguns.

Jack counted down on his fingers. Three. Two. One. 

They were running. She crouched to make a smaller target, doing her best to weave back and forth. Out of the shade of the crates, the heat was like a physical push against her.

A flash of movement on her chest. She looked down. A red laser mark against her white breastplate. Time seemed to stretch like taffy.  _ Poor knowledge of anatomy _ , she thought,  _ that's not where my heart is at all _ . 

She heard a roar. A bear? What would a bear be doing in Africa?

Something huge, heavy slammed into her. She was falling. Floating. It was so hot. Maybe the air was thick enough to hold her weight.

Then she hit the ground and everything whipped back into place. There was a crack. A whine like a dragonfly zipping overhead.

Gabriel rolled off her. "Sniper!" he yelled. He dragged her to her feet. The air was full of gunfire. The ozone scent of pulse munitions. From somewhere, the staccato rhythm of Torbjorn's turret rang out. 

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. 

Gabriel threw her behind the crates and dived after her. "You alright?" he roared, voice hoarse over the sounds of battle. Oh. Not a bear, then.

She nodded. Shaken. Fine. She had a job to do.

He was frowning. Reached towards her. Stopped, hand caught in the air between them. 

She gasped in a breath at last. "Yes. Yes! Go!"

He nodded once and swung around the corner of the crate and out of sight. She heard the twin reports of his shotguns. 

Someone screamed. And then again. "Medic!" She grabbed her staff and surged to her feet. She had a job to do.

 

She yawned as she padded back to her quarters from the shower block. The day had been long. Beyond long. Multiple plasma rifle shots and contusions on the battlefield. Lena had tweaked a knee. And to top it all off, Liao had had the deep misfortune to catch some shrapnel with his groin. It had missed the femoral by less than a centimeter, which made had made removing it and stitching him up more than a little tense. Not to mention all the sterilized aloe and "I told you so's" she'd had to hand out for sunburns. She was so tired her bones felt heavy. 

Which was why she was less pleased than she might have been to see a familiar figure by the door to her quarters. 

"Gabriel," she began curtly, ready to send him to bed. In his own quarters. Then she saw his face. His eyes looked raw. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Angela." She could smell that horrid tequila he liked so much on his breath. 

"Have you been drinking?" she asked, aghast. 

"Not enough."

She frowned, doing her best to pull up her professional demeanor. The robe and cheap plastic shower shoes rather ruined the effect, she knew. "What on earth has gotten into you, Reyes? This is not the behaviour I expect from an officer."

"Angela." She stopped. There was something in his voice. Something she hadn't heard before. Fear? He couldn't meet her eyes. He looked down at his hands, lax against his thighs. "Angela. I..." His voice caught. She watched his swallow, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I almost lost you."

Something in her cracked and melted. "Oh, Gabriel," she whispered. "You... you'd better come in."

He followed her in and just stood there, by the door, his shoulders looped forwards. He looked... small, even though he almost eclipsed the door behind him. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I know you must be tired. But I... I tried to sleep on the dropship. And every time I closed my eyes all I could see was that sniper with a bead on you, and you, you just standing there. If I'd been slower, even a second--" He stopped. Scrubbed his hands over his face as if he could wipe the memory off his skin. "I can't always be there. I won't be. What if..." He couldn't finish the thought.

She took one of his hands in hers and pressed it to her cheek. She could still smell the gunpowder on it, the tang of iron and soot. "I will be fine, Gabriel. You're not the only one who has my back." It was true. Any of the others would do their best to keep her safe, just as she did her best to keep them healthy.

"I don't suppose there's any question of keeping you off of future missions."

She said nothing, merely kissing his hand. He knew there was not. 

"Then will you... will you at least learn to shoot?"

She opened her mouth to protest and he brushed his fingers gently over her lips to silence her. 

"I know. I know,  _ mi alma _ . I'm not asking you to shoot anyone. Just... just let me teach you how to use a gun. Please. Even if you never draw your weapon. It will help me sleep at night."

She sighed, shaking her head. It was impossible to refuse him when he was like this, shining with sincerity and tight with worry, no sign of the brusque mask he wore around the others. "I suppose I could take one or two lessons."

He drooped with relief. Pulled her to his chest gently, cupping the back of her head with his hand. "Thank you,  _ angelita _ ." 

They stood together for a long moment. Her hair was soaking through his sweater, but he didn't seem to mind. She could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. Feel the rise and fall of his chest, the subtle shift of his weight, the breathtaking heat of him. (Pulse much lower than average but within healthy parameters, lungs clear, and the high-gear metabolism was no surprise given his muscle mass.)

"Angela," he said finally, burying his face in the top of her head. His breath was warm against her wet hair. "You shouldn't be here."

She pulled away from him, snorting with amusement. "What? In my own quarters?"

He wrinkled his nose at her. "That's not what I meant. Here. At Overwatch. You're not like the rest of us. We're old soldiers. We've never known anything else. But you... You could be anywhere. Doing anything. This isn't your fight."

She stepped completely free from him, frowning. Tugged her robe tighter around her. This again. "I  _ made _ it my fight, Gabriel. I can do more good in Overwatch than out of it."

A quick, rueful smile. "And you do win the fights you choose, don't you, Doctor?" 

"I do my best."

He shook his head slightly, a smile building. "One of these days you're going to go toe to toe with Death itself,  _ querida _ . I'd pay to see how that one plays out."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic, Gabriel. I'm a doctor, not some mythological heroine."

"You're a heroine to me," he teased. 

She scoffed.

"And not just to me," he continued, suddenly serious. "You've done so much, Angela. And you have so much left to do. If you... " He stopped. Pressed his fist to his mouth. Looked at her, with all the weight of what he couldn't say in his eyes. 

She met his gaze. "I know," she said simply. 

He stepped forwards all at once and kissed her, as slow and tender as if it were their first. Her breath caught as his hands travelled down her back, tracing the shape of her body through the brushed cotton of her robe. "Angela," he said in her ear, "I..." A catch in his voice. Almost a sob. "I almost lost you."

"I know," she said, threading her fingers through his hair. "I know, Gabriel. I'm here. I'm fine."

"I need... I need to be with you. I need to know that you're here. You're safe." He pulled away and took her face in his hands, tracing the line of her cheekbones with his thumbs. His hands were shaking slightly. 

She couldn't help herself. She yawned.

He grimaced ruefully. "But... perhaps tomorrow. You must be exhausted."

She twisted her face between his hands. Bit into the flesh at the base of his thumb, the  _ opponens pollicis _ . He tasted of metal and salt. He gasped softly and she smiled slyly, looking at him sidelong. "I believe this will be worth staying up for."


	2. Chapter 2

Previously: 

> She twisted her face between his hands. Bit into the flesh at the base of his thumb, the  _ opponens pollicis _ . He tasted of metal and salt. He gasped softly and she smiled slyly, looking at him sidelong. "I believe this will be worth staying up for."

Gabriel's chuckle was almost low enough to be called a growl. "I'll make sure it is."

He peeled the robe off her shoulder, exposing one breast. Her nipple immediately wrinkled in the sudden chill of her quarters. He dragged the flat of his tongue across it, covering the entire aureola. His mouth was searing but infinitely gentle.

She felt her knees threaten to go and grabbed at his shoulders. Without lifting his head, Gabriel shifted one hand down her back to support her. He guided her back until the back of her knees hit the bed and she sat back with a bump, kicking off her shower shoes.

He knelt in front of her. Their eyes were almost even. His, dark as good earth, were bloodshot, slightly puffy. Symptoms of alcohol overuse. Suddenly worried, she shifted slightly, unblocking the light behind her. Both Gabriel's pupils snapped smaller. Completely normal pupillary response time. 

He wasn't drunk. He'd been crying.

"You done diagnosing me yet, doc?"

She blushed. He could read her so easily. "I'm afraid the prognosis is not good. Your romanticism is incurable."

He barked a laugh, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him. "There are a couple dozen elite operatives downstairs who would...  _ strenuously  _ disagree with you." His hands slid up her legs, slow as a python swallowing its prey. Angela shivered, goosebumps rippling up her thighs and down her arms.

She pulled his head close, sinking her teeth into his earlobe, into the knot of scar tissue from a long-closed piercing. "Ah," she breathed, "but they don't know you like I do,  _ Liebhaber _ ."

"I should hope not." He caught her mouth, beard rough against her skin. This kiss was not so gentle. He tasted of tequila and cinnamon and, underneath, simply himself. Her hands found his hair. It was just long enough to tangle her fingers in, to give her enough traction to pull. She smiled against his mouth as his hiss turned to a moan.

_ "Anglea _ ." The frustration in his voice sent heat coiling through her.

She ran her hands down his chest then, sliding them under his sweater, up again. His chest was pockmarked with scar tissue. Her fingers found the divot of a long-healed bullet wound between his seventh and eighth ribs. Almost the first wound she'd treated at Overwatch. She drug her nails slowly back down the sensitive hollows of his armpits, his sides, the dip of his waist. Grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it up. He swam out of it and tossed it to the floor. His breath was harsher now. She pressed her fingers into the dip of his clavicle, felt the flutter of his heartbeat under the thin skin. He was watching her, drinking her in, those glorious brows knitting together, lips just parted.

So. Let him look. She clambered back on the bed, keeling high. Pulled the ends of the sash of her robe. The knot slid undone, fell. She pulled the robe off her other shoulder, stopping short of uncovering her other breast. Gently freed her arms, one at a time. Then, slowly as a flower blooming, she pulled the robe off entirely, dropping it to the side as it finally came free.

Gabriel muttered something reverent in Spanish, too soft and low for her to catch. He stood, and the bed dipped with his weight as he crawled toward her. His hands found her waist. They slid back, down, grabbing at her ass as he pulled her against him, pressing the strain of his erection into her stomach. She hissed as the cold metal of his belt buckle dug into her. Pulling away, she undid his pants and tugged them down. He kicked them off. Wriggled out of his underwear. 

He turned back to her, pupils blown wide. Angela pressed a hand to his chest, keeping him at arm's length. Her gaze lazily traced him. The powerful width of his thighs, the tender,vulnerable flesh of his hips, the ripeness of his erection, the complex musculature of his torso, the stretch of his shoulders and, at last, his face. The lips, the nose, the eyes, the brows she knew so well. Her Gabriel. He was watching her back, the tension of his self restraint clear in the line of his jaw and chin. "Angela," he whispered. 

She relented to the plea in his voice, crossing the distance between them to press herself against him. His arms looped around her, squeezing her against him with enough strength to force a gasp from her. She turned her head, catching his unguarded nipple with a canine, and he gasped in turn. He chuckled, tilted her chin up to look into her face. "You're bitey tonight,  _ mamacita _ ."

She grinned up at him unrepentantly, snapping at his thumb. 

His amused snort was the only warning before he flipped her neatly onto her back. He tucked a pillow under her head, smiling at her bemusement. Leaning down, he traced her jaw with hot, slick, open-mouthed kisses while his hand slipped down her stomach, curling over her sex. She bucked with surprise as he flicked a finger over her clit. The buck turned into an arch as he began to gently circle her clit, dipping his fingers into her briefly to wet them. She could feel her chest flushing, the prickle of it travel up from under her breasts. 

Gabriel pressed his forehead to hers. She opened her eyes. He was staring at her like he was trying to see her very soul. Like he was trying to memorize the color of her eyes.  _ "Tu eres muy adorada.  _ So, so precious."

She opened her mouth to reply, but only quick panting fell out. He was pulling her tighter and tighter, drawing her like a bow. Still staring into her eyes, he slid one finger, then another, then a third into her, moving his thumb to her clit. His other hand slipped behind her neck, wound through her hair, supported her as she strained upwards. She was one long line from chin to toes, her hands grabbing at the sheets by her hips. He leaned down, mouth moving down her neck, sucking as he went, his beard harsh against the tender skin. And all the while his fingers were curling within her, his thumb rubbing in insistent circles. The tension built in her like water behind a dam. And then, all at once, it spilled over. 

She gasped. Her eyes snapped open. Her arms jerked, grabbed at the sheets, the air, at him. The wave of her orgam washed over her, a roar of white noise. 

She felt herself begin to relax, breath slowing. She was quivering. His hand traced down her cheek, her neck, and it almost felt cool against the burn of her skin. He brushed his other thumb over her clit again and she jerked, the shock of the contact zipping down her legs. 

He slipped his fingers gently from her. Shifted. Pressed the taut warmth of his cock against her thigh.

She sat up. Took the hand that had been in her. Sucked his fingers into her mouth, slick and tart. He groaned, muscles of his neck straining. She played her tongue over his knuckles. Bit gently at the calloused pads his fingers. His eyebrows rose warningly and she pulled his fingers from her mouth.

She slithered down the bed, took the hot heaviness of his cock in her hand. She rubbed her thumb against his frenulum, just brushing the opening of the preputial glands. The other hand stroked, her grip firm enough that his skin slid with it over the engorged corpora cavernosa below. Her eyes traced up the curves of his torso, the underside of his jaw as his head fell back. She lowered her head. Breathed in the wet-paper and wool smell of him. Opened her mouth and put her lips around him, tongue slipping over the curve and dip of his glans. Then, so gently, she scraped her teeth over the corona, careful not to catch them on the sensitive flesh. His gasp was almost a sob.

_ "Cielos _ ."

She lazily traced her tongue over his shaft in long, tortuous loops. His hips bucked against her mouth and she sucked him even deeper. Buried her nose in the dark tangle of his pubic hair. His hands were on her head, pulling her up, off his cock. She looked up, ignoring the long strand of saliva that draped itself down her chin.

"I want..." His voice cracked. "I want to be inside you."

She nodded. Crawled up him, straddling his hips, pressing his length against his belly. With a small wicked smile she swiveled her hips, sliding her slit along his shaft, slowly enough that the friction was maddening. 

He grabbed her ass, fingers digging almost deep enough to bruise. " _ Anglea _ .  _ Please _ ."

She relented, reaching down to guide him into her entrance. His hips rose to meet her, his eager hands moving over her hips, her ass, her thighs, as he thrust into her. The pressure of him on her inner walls was delicious. She ground herself against him, mouth suddenly dry. She needed, needed. It was all perfection. The heat of him, the absolute solidity against and within her. The wet smack as he sunk himself into her. The smell of them, together, and over that the faintest scent of her shampoo. Her toes curled, catching at the sheets. Pressure was building in her again, undeniable. She arched back, hands bracing on his thighs behind her, head falling back. The change in angle was almost enough to send her over the edge. Her nails dug into his thighs. He groaned, hands grabbing her hips more firmly, guiding her rhythm. Faster. Faster. It was too much, too much to hold in. She lower belly beginning to clench, involuntarily, overwhelming.

"Gabriel," she gasped,  _ "mein Gott _ ."

Her whole body tensed with her orgasm, thighs pressing into Gabriel's hips like she was trying to snap them as her inner walls spasmed around him. He growled, slamming into her one, two, three more times before he, too, came. She could feel the pulse of his orgasm within her, the sudden release of his muscles below her. 

With a luxurious sigh, she sat up. He pulled her forwards against his chest, slick with sweat. She nuzzled against him briefly, propped her head on her hands. "Mm. That was nice. Certainly worth staying up for. But I believe it is time for bed now, no?"

He stroked her hair. "A few more minutes?" 

She shook her head, smiling, but made no move to leave, even as she felt the slow deflating-balloon prickle of him going soft inside of her. She would not say it, certainly not to him, but she knew their days were numbered. They lived dangerous lives. It was a mere matter of time. If he did not lose her, she would lose him. She pressed a kiss to his chest and he smiled down at her, one hand stroking her hair. She smiled back, resolving to enjoy what time they had left. 

**Author's Note:**

> The idea that Gabriel teaches Angela to shoot was shamelessly stolen from [this](http://poly-hebdo.tumblr.com/post/149754110521/i-saw-a-headcanon-around-here-that-reyes-taught) post by @poly-hebdo.


End file.
